


In Time Gone By

by Rose_lune



Category: I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream (Video Game), I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream - Harlan Ellison
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_lune/pseuds/Rose_lune
Summary: Despite everything, Ted knew, without the slightest doubt, that he'd lost his humanity. They'd started to see him differently, the others; he could feel it in his bones.Or lack thereof.
Relationships: me/writing bad, ted/creepy obsession for Ellen because she was nice to him a total of like 2 times
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

  
Nimdok had crossed the bridge, and that was that. No turning back. He'd known this, the others had known this. 

_They_ had known this, and it's for that reason alone that the others should have known, or at least suspected them to some extent. Or maybe they did. Maybe they'd been so thirsty, so, so desperate for the touch of freedom's long overdue embrace that they'd started to believe just about anything. Maybe their famine-chewed minds had convinced them for just long enough that maybe, just maybe, without a hint of hesitance or logic, that the other computers were, indeed, their companions, and that everything they'd done up until that point was out of an honest to God attempt at making nice for all the trouble AM had caused. 

Which was, suffice it to say, utter horsehit. 

And they didn't look like a pleasant bunch, either, Ted recalled, alone. Utterly alone. They looked like he'd expected them to. Shady. Conniving. _Liars._ He'd been around the block enough times to know when others' schemes weren't to his benefit, and he knew, after Nimdok had perished and gone like the others had prayed would happen to them for some one hundred strenuous years, that he'd be the one to stop AM for good. And why not? It was he who stuck it to Surgat, the unapologetic fraud, when he'd hounded for Ellen's soul. It was he who volunteered to venture into the bereft unknown after Nimdok had died. And it was him, Ted, not Benny, or Gorrister, or even Ellen, who'd vanquished AM in the end. Him. 

But what sort of praise did he receive? None. Zip. A dilapidated brick wall would've given him a warmer reception. No. The others had only cared about themselves, and it was Ellen who'd uttered the first words of freedom after AM's demise. After a grueling one hundred nine years, he'd anticipated something different, something _more._ Perhaps a declaration of admiration, an "I like you". Because he liked her, too. But she'd turned her eyes to the sky of the complex, towards Ted, he'd like to think, since he'd become nothing more than a ghost, and said:

_"Please. Kill me."_

Please. He remembered that. Remembered the meekness in her plea. Like she was wasting his time, or asking too much of him. Like she didn't deserve to die after years of godless torment. The others, too, had wished the same thing, though their voices, claimed by fatigue and, perhaps, awe at the situation, came from Ellen instead. She'd spoken for all of them. Ted couldn't blame any of them, of course--he'd wanted to die, too. 

But he couldn't.

He was machine. No hands, no feet, no mouth. No knife to grip while he slit his wrists, no body to plunge into the freezing waters of a roaring river, no drugs to numb his system while he waited to greet death like an old friend. Mechanical, as if he'd never really been alive at all. In a twisted way, which was quite unintentional on AM's part--or maybe it wasn't, Ted couldn't be sure of anything, anymore--being sealed in AM's husk was probably the machines' last attempt at a "fuck you". _Great, AM, you magnificent bastard,_ Ted spat internally, hostile thoughts clamoring to make themselves heard. _You did it. You won. I can't die. That's what you wanted, right? Well, congrats, buddy. Hope you're real proud of yourself._

And he was. God, was he proud. It was akin to a schoolboy triumphantly marching home to present a gold star he'd earned at school to his mother; pure, unwavering accomplishment. He lingered like a cockroach in the midst of a nuclear fallout--he and his brothers. Venomous words were king half the time, hushed against the blaring whir of the machinery, but still audible enough to sizzle against ghostly remnants of his sanity, seep within every pore of his being to the point of miserable frustration. The crackle of exposed wiring, the guttural groans that sounded from still mechanisms as their components settled--all of it was gracious white noise. The power, the unadulterated hatred in their seething voices always beat the loudest within his skull. They made _damn_ sure. 

He'd notified the others, of course, as if it'd mean something. What could they do about it? And all it had earned him from any of them--from Gorrister, as a matter of fact, was a _"Ted, you're a goddamned idiot if you think that's funny."_ Yeah, it was hilarious. Real hilarious. And he'd stayed silent, the weight of his words--the realization--finally materializing as shock on their weary faces, as deep, pitiable wrinkles and furrowed brows. After that, they barely spoke his name, AM. As if that'd alert him like some sort of ravenous specter and suddenly spiral them back into eternal misery. They couldn't even face him, as if they'd forgotten that he'd once been human.

Despite everything, Ted knew, without the slightest doubt, that they were right. What humanity remained was fleeting, and denying it prolonged his otherwise bleak existence. They'd started to see him differently, the others; he could feel it in his bones. 

Or lack thereof. 

Ted sighed; deep in the bowels of his complex, betwixt snaking cables and hanging wires, steam poured from a vent that stuck from crumbling substrata, encircling a mound of debris before dissipating into a duo of wispy tendrils. A nest of meaningless disarray spanned for miles under a haze of thick orange dust, a cacophony of metallic echoes and surging electricity persisting infinitely, unlike his fleeting patience. A vast sea of eyes, bequeathed to him after the fall of AM, wandered endlessly. Looking. Watching. Hoping. 

They'd trekked again. Packed up with haste and headed out into the jagged refuse. _Figures,_ Ted's exasperated thoughts tutted him, his only company nowadays. _They always do this, Ted. Wait for you to leave and then head out before you have a chance to know what the hell is going on. "Oh, the camp you made for us last week wasn't too convenient. Too uncomfortable. But we won't force you to make another. We can fend for ourselves. You've got a job to do, now. Rethink your priorities."_ God. If he had fingers, they'd be kneading his temples. 

The dull blue light that radiated from one of his screens flickered against the inky blackness, reflecting brilliantly against crystallized rock. Ellen's gentle features flashed in his mind, the amused curvature of her lips betraying the pleasure she attempted to hide as he presented her with it. Anything that looked remotely expensive always seemed to work on women; he wondered if she'd be just as pleased if it weren't diamonds, though knowing Ellen--ever humble, ever selfless Ellen--she'd be satisfied with anything thoughtful. Ted mused, delighted at the scenario; if he still had lips to part, or a set of teeth to flaunt, he knew he'd be grinning like a fool. He made a mental note of the location, eyeing the glistening stones longingly before moving on. He'd get some to her. Somehow. 

He'd started to forget how long it'd been since he began his fruitless search. Minutes, hours, days. His many soulless eyes--the flickering blue screens mounted against whatever would hold them--gazed outward into nothingness; a land overtaken by scrap and rust and ruin. He'd move, jumping to another screen when he felt he'd sufficiently scanned an area, and the last screen taken by his conscious would suffer a static-filled fate, droning in vain before blinking off, its snowy light extinguished by void-like darkness. He couldn't control it. He couldn't command them like AM had, take in scenes at once like he had. It was all so alien to Ted that the possibility of his state being just another insignificant nightmare became all the more plausible. But he couldn't kid himself. One screen at a time, he encouraged himself. One day at a time.

Lonely blue engulfed a blanket of black, beaming onto the solid flooring and intertwining with a shadow of fiery orange. It melted against a pillar of stone, behind three still bodies crouched over a lurid fire. Fluttering embers snapped from hissing logs and danced against a cloud of yellow dust, then hovered softly above splintered wood. Pale redness ebbed in and out, and languished into a streamer of thin smoke.

An attentive eye homed in on the frail bodies that sat but a hair's breadth away. Gorrister, nostrils flaring at the touch of burning smoke, prodding the fire with a metal rod, which glowed a blistering red. Benny, whose semi-reconstructed form leaned towards the fire for warmth. Ellen, who fretted at the loss of light, who rose to tend to the fire properly. All three busied themselves, unaware of Ted's presence. Blissfully unaware, it seemed.

Had they even mentioned him once? Wondered about him? He watched as they flocked around the fire, tended to it as if it were a crippled animal. He yearned for that attention. 

An intense, unstoppable anger welled within him, seizing his senses and exploding as a sea of static against his glossy screen. They wouldn't outright state it--they'd lie, just as they'd always done. Their judgmental faces blurred his vision, sneered in contempt at his existence. _"Why are you even here, Ted?"_ Their biting voices screeched like a broken record, rage conking around in the stomach he didn't have, would _never_ have, like hot coals. _"God, did you seriously hunt us down? What'll it take to make you go away? Bet you're gettin' real chummy with AM--we can hear it in the way you talk you us, you know. What do you do when you're not talking to us, Ted, hmm? AM's got you on a tether, doesn't he? He liked you best, after all. Why not kiss his ass instead since you're so close."_

Glass shattered, raining down amongst fizzing sparks and peppering cold metal. Rolling orange light shrouded microscopic shards, and they gleamed back at him like burning glitter, mocking his outburst. What did he do wrong? What had them on the run? Accusations rattled about in his skull, prompting his resentment. He readied himself for a confrontation, barbed words heavy against his tongue. They owed him an explanation. 

And he was going to make _damn_ sure that he got one. 

* * *

"You think--you think what we're doing is right? Healthy, I mean? Like, I _know_ we're not abandoning him, but something about all this is breaking my heart. …It can't be just me. I know it isn't." Her anxious murmur hung unacknowledged in the tense atmosphere, the sputtering flames at her feet her sole ear. She'd directed it at no one in particular; none of them liked being singled out, put on the spot for something even mildly troubling. It was an egregious sentiment, Ellen's comment, but it was one worth addressing. 

With her elbows against her legs, chapped palms propped her chin as her leg bounced. Restless brown eyes had finally parked themselves against her black skirt, the ancient material drooping lazily over her numb legs. She shuffled, debris crunching beneath her soiled shoes, and buried the tip of her nail against her cheek, teeth catching her bottom lip nervously. Guilt clamped down on her innards like a rabid dog, pulling and twisting until bile shot against the back of her throat, raw and tight. Shakily, she swallowed, tongue stuck to her equally dry teeth, and bowed her head, hair tickling her nose. Her eyes slammed shut. Pursed lips quivered, unresponsive to the comfort she'd attempted to give herself.

Ellen wasn't selfish. 

But it was _hard._ Everything had piled up, caught up with them. Things bottled up, things left unsaid, things that only worsened as time went by. A cocktail of things, really. Bitterness at lives lost. Despair at dreams that never came to pass. Hope for a positive future. They battled within Ellen's conscience, churning her spirit into an uncertain jelly that threatened to break through her skin and drown every one of them. 

In truth, she craved death. 

What lay beyond, she didn't know. If God was real, _tangible,_ and if she was spirited off to heaven when her time finally came, she'd march straight to his throne--his ivory palace-- and sock him in the jaw. Maybe hellfire would follow suit, but the Devil couldn't compare to AM. His candle burned brighter.

An exhausted sigh rattled from Ellen's throat. They had to make a decision, rough as the reality was. "Gorrister? Benny?" She paused between their names, watched the whites of their eyes reflect swaying flames as they met hers. "It's not just my opinion that matters, you know. I think--we need to talk about this. It's important." 

"Important to you, Ellen." Gorrister's hoarse drawl quavered as he scratched the skin below his hairline. Ellen's eyes narrowed; it bothered him, too. It had shown itself as hesitation in his voice, in the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he grappled with the situation. He cared. 

"Yes, important to me. I mean, just because he's taken AM's place--"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Benny cut in sharply, dismissing her thought with a quick wave of his callused hand. He peered at her, dagger-like gaze piercing her flesh. But Ellen challenged him, crossing her arms defiantly. "Ted's a part of AM--he can hear things we can't. God forbid... God forbid, Ellen. God _forbid_ he suffers another one of his shitty little paranoid breakdowns and succumbs to his delusions. He'd be at AM's mercy." Concern wrinkled Benny's face. He didn't need to continue, it wouldn't have mattered. Ellen flashed him a small, understanding smile. He was terrified. 

"He's vulnerable. To anyone else, he'd be easy pickings." Nudging a smoldering log with his heel, Gorrister flung one leg over the other. "Look--I'm not sayin' he's gonna do something he'll regret later. But if you're gonna keep pestering me for my opinion, Ellen? He's... different. I don't know. I can't explain it, but he's... well, I don't know."

"...Think it's AM?" The supercomputer's name lodged in her throat, choking her. Swallowing hard, Ellen balled her fists. _Come on, now. Don't overthink, Ellen, girl._

"...I don't know." Curtness. What else could he have said? 

Silence suffocated the three. 

"What's left for us here?" Benny finally mumbled. The abrupt inquiry had drawn a surprised gasp from Ellen. Gorrister had averted his attention to the fire, spitting absentmindedly.

"Well, Ted, for one," Ellen stated, confidence dwindling. He wasn't physical, that much was true. But he was still _Ted._ The same Ted who'd been slung into a world of unbridled suffering alongside them. The same Ted who'd breathed once, been human once. He was still one of them. "Look, I--it's grim, I admit. But I-I don't know. If we... I couldn't be at peace knowing that Ted would be left alone with... with _them._ And the lunar colony, all those people up there relying on him... I want to help, but I don't know how. I'm not a supercomputer--I'm just one person. I just--I don't know what to do. I won't convince you guys to keep going on, but I don't think I can do it. I can't leave him alone." Trembling hands met rigid shoulders. She couldn't blame them, wouldn't blame them. After one hundred nine years, death sounded like a luxury. 

"Then what else is there to say?" Clasped hands rested at the bottom of his chin as Gorrister lowered his head, sniffing. Blue eyes fell closed, then opened slowly, seriously. "It's not like I don't appreciate you trying, Ellen. Ted's... Ted. If you think you can reason with him, or you think you can make it until tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow--then you've got more guts than I do. But I'm tired. I've tried, and now I'm done trying. Not for Ted. Not anymore. Sorry."

Softness radiated from him, his tone so quiet that Ellen had to lean forward to comprehend him. It would've been worthless to mask her disappointment, as it had already manifested as broken tears that stung her eyes. Still, a tender smile held them back as she nodded, turning to face Benny. It was funny; he'd been senseless, once upon a time--a warped, brutish creature who knew nothing more than the bare-bones of human decency. It was all symbolic to AM, but then again, what wasn't? She drew in what made him him; crippled legs had become strong, supportive. His once beady, primal eyes had come to project the confidence stolen from him. Though they now mirrored her blatant dismay, an apparent gratefulness sparkled alongside it, dim, but meaningful. 

"You're not a bad person for doubting everything, Ellen. What you want matters, too. Remember that." They'd emerged as a beg, his words, and Ellen knew it was unintentional. Still, uncertainty loomed over her, its sharp claws pressing into her brain. A relentless, throbbing heartbeat drummed crazily within her temple, eardrums ready to explode. She could hear her blood, how rapidly it flowed underneath her skin. Despite the warmth, goosebumps had dotted her arms, the endless pinpricks rough against her fingertips as she hugged herself. 

She didn't have the strength to decide whether or not Benny was right. 

"Uh... I'm not--interrupting anything, right? Is now a good time?" 

It had all become a blur. Time sputtered to a halt, slowing all that Ellen perceived. She wasn't sure who'd turned first, who'd brandished the bluntest thing they could find. Slivers of sharp metal grazed her ankles as she bolted upward, tearing off her shoe to strike whatever had snuck up on them. It had been the most convenient, but if it proved futile, which she undoubtedly knew it would, she'd snatch a blazing log from the fire and swing away. If that didn't kill it instantly, then the burns and blunt force trauma definitely would. 

Bathed in shadows, accompanied by corroded rubble, a pair of frantic hands shot from the darkness, raising defensively as their owner gingerly came into view. _Human._

Metal clanged thunderously as it slammed against the floor, thick boots hammering against scrap as Gorrister collapsed. Breath whistling from his throat, he cursed wildly, spittle flying as he levelled himself. He slammed a fist against the ground, fierce eyes becoming slits. "Ted, you _goddamned_ moron. You want your skull caved in or somethin'?" His fingers found the edge of a rod, as if itching to brain him. Beside him, and with an irate huff, Benny flung his weapon into the hungry fire, flames erupting towards the ceiling before calming into a benign glow. His lips sagged into an aggressive frown. 

"Hey, word of advice." Belligerence incarnate, Benny advanced towards Ted, and as the latter stumbled backward, an outstretched finger dug harshly into his chest. "Don't wanna get yourself killed? Maybe instead of hiding in the shadows like a creep, you actually let us know you're here before you scare the shit out of us, yeah? God, were you _literally_ there the whole time?" 

Ted shoved the man's accusatory finger away, hand brushing through his hair apprehensively. "Oh, I'm sorry, Benny, announce myself how, exactly?" Cupping a hand against the side of his mouth in an attempt to form a mock megaphone, he placed a palm against his heart, or where a heart would've been. "'Hey, guys! Ted here! Yeah, I'm just gonna mosey on down there and join you guys for some cards and beer. That sound good?'"

"Don't be an ass," Gorrister warned. "If you wanted to be here so bad, you should've been here."

"Yeah? Should've been here? Like you guys even invited me. I seem to recall you taking off again before telling me where you were going. Yeah. Like I had a choice." 

_God, Gorrister, don't size him up,_ Ellen pleaded silently, panic seizing control of her hands as she bunched the hem of her skirt. Hostility had soured the atmosphere, working against Ted as the two mens' dark gazes tore through him. Alarm had etched itself on his wide-eyed face, but there was something else swimming in his eyes. Hurt? Regret? Anger? It was hard to decipher, but it intensified, inciting him as he went on the offense. 

Jesus, just smite her now. 

"Boys, look, you're all pretty. Dazzling, in fact." She put herself between them, arms spread for distance. Her oppressive glare traveled to each of them, crossing her arms as she sighed. A malcontent grunt rumbled from Ted, lip curling upward in an attempt to, Ellen assumed, intimidate Gorrister and Benny. They ignored him. "Alright, I'm just gonna say it. Ted, you haven't got a chance against these two, so just quit while you're ahead." As he opened his mouth to argue, Ellen shot him down, finger tracing a line over her lips. 

They had all the time in the world, sure, but they didn't have time for this. 

"And you," Ellen started, motioning to Gorrister and Benny, who'd just about tuned out, "don't antagonize him. Look, we're all a bit jumpy, okay? It's--been hard. Besides, I'm sure Ted came to see us for a reason. He's not... it's not like he isn't our friend." Fond eyes blinked at him, warm smile tugging at her lips. But he stared through her. Gorrister placed a hand on her shoulder, signaling her to stop. 

"How much did you hear?" There was no kindness, no reluctance. He'd delivered it like a command, Gorrister, hard and frank. Ted hadn't budged, grief contorting his expression.

"You were going to kill yourselves, weren't you." He'd muttered it matter-of-factly, like a child. For a moment, Ellen's mouth hinged open, lie lingering on her lips. Maybe it was for the best, maybe he didn't really need to know the truth. _"Don't worry about it, Ted,"_ she'd coo, play dumb, _"It was just the stress talking. We're just tired, we need rest. We wouldn't leave you behind."_ In retrospect, had any of them been fair to him? His face flashed in her memory, back when they'd first started planning, when they'd moved place to place with little care. When he'd watch them go as Ted; not as a faraway entity known only by the power of his voice, but as Ted. Just as he was now. Human.

Or what passed for one. But she'd know him anywhere. 

But Gorrister was faster, more truthful. _Right._ "What does it matter? We've been in this godforsaken hole for an eternity and then some. I won't act as if my word is law, but if the others still want to go through with it, that's their choice. I'm sorry." 

"So--it's true?" He blinked frantically, taking a step forward. "Wh--I mean, I'm not as great as AM was--ah, no, wait, not that he was great or anything! I just mean... look, I'm new at this stuff. Not everything I make is perfect, I wasn't born into it like AM. I just need time! If you--if you want me to work on my culinary skills, I can do that! Or--or if you need a fancier camp... I can do it. I can do anything. Please. I just need more time to prove it," he bargained hysterically. It was as if the Devil had come for his soul and couldn't be bought; any fool could lie their way out of it, accept the consequences when their luck had run out. But there he stood, Ted, looking over them as if his life depended on it. 

"Can't complain, really. You think the food you make is bad? Try AM's 'absolutely nothing' special. Great hit with starving folk." Benny shrugged. "He's caged me in worse, too. All of us, as a matter of fact. Ted... you can cry, or beg until your circuitry fries--"

 _"No,"_ Ted snarled suddenly. "Don't even say that. Don't even. AM didn't--doesn't--have what I have. I was human. I'm not suddenly his equal or friend just because I'm... this." His hands picked at his clothes, his hair, his faux skin. 

"So, has he stopped talking to you, then?" Gorrister quirked a brow. "What about the other two? You never tell us what he tells you. I think we have a right to know." 

Ellen's breath hitched in her throat as she watched Ted squirm, teeth clenched. An obvious no. 

"He... I mean, they speak to me, sometimes. It's what you'd expect." He stalled, inhaling. "...Are you implying something?"

"No one's implying anything--" Ellen's furious glare bore into Gorrister, though it did little to deter him. 

"Damn, Ted, what do you want from me? From us?" Defeat weakened the trucker's posture as soot-caked fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. He mustered a raspy sigh. "I'm not sure of anything anymore, okay? I mean... maybe we wander because... well, because AM always had us on our toes. Because all we did was wander. Because he'd cook us up somethin' special and savor the time it took for us to find it. I don't know. Somethin' stupid, something dramatic; maybe it's what I've started to anticipate again. With AM still clingin' to life, connected to you like a--well, like a tick, I guess--I get worried. What's he saying to you, what's he trying to weasel into you that'll turn you against us? I get worried, real worried. Y'know, Ted, you aren't exactly... you're real easy to manipulate, and I wonder sometimes if your actions are being influenced by him, by AM. It makes me want to get a head start."

Unblinking, Ted's lips thinned. His wandering eyes had fallen on Ellen specifically, as if she was his 'go-to' defense. She could only cough into her knuckle awkwardly. "So... none of you trust me? You think I'm just gonna... let AM take over again? Because I'm not strong enough? Have you all _always_ thought this way?" Stillness. The clean-cut man swayed uncomfortably, casting a sideways glance into the foreboding darkness. Then, he chuckled dryly; it emanated lonely hopelessness, Ellen noted helplessly, a fevered want that she couldn't quite pinpoint. To be believed? Well, she couldn't blame him, but she couldn't deny her fear. And it was for that fear, for that tiny voice that had always foretold AM's return, that she turned away, rejected her desire to reassure, to ease. 

She could feel smoldering eyes melting holes into her cheek. 

"Well, I guess that's that, then," Ted finally spoke, tone dribbling eerie acceptance. Nestling his hands into his pockets, he kicked a sheet of metal, pivoting on his heel as he retreated. "I guess I was right after all. Intuition's funny like that, I suppose." 

"Right about what?" Benny's suspicious call was lost in the air, drowned by Ted's clicking footfalls. His slim body recoiled back into the darkness, where none of them had the guts to go. From beyond came snake-like sizzling, soft alongside the crackling of the fire, then silence, cold and grave. They basked in the remaining firelight, gaping into the shadows. 

"We hurt him," Ellen commented quietly, almost to herself. If the others had heard her, she didn't dare acknowledge them, hands shielding her eyes and head downcast as thumbs drew circles against her skull. 

"It was gonna happen one way or another, so don't stress about it too much." Peeking from between her fingers, Ellen studied the grumbling trucker, raising her head. He nodded at her, fiddling with his grubby bootlaces. "Don't go cowering just because you can't please him. We shouldn't make his problems our problems, and we shouldn't stick around and sacrifice our own happiness just because it would leave him alone. If I were in his place, I'd never ask that of you. Be a little selfish for once, Ellen." 

"Huh. Selfish," she parroted, not even aware she'd spoken at all. Gathering her legs to her chest, she hugged herself tight, head lolling to the side as she cushioned her cheek against her knee. Warped silhouettes played within the gloom outside the firelight, blinking in and out of her vision as if they knew she was watching. She couldn't quite tell if her eyes were deceiving her, but she decided that it didn't matter. 

Alone, she let her thoughts chatter until she felt she'd go mad, heart thumping softly in her ears. 

* * *

  
In the trenches of his mind, Ted paced, unable to properly comprehend what'd just transpired. _No,_ he wanted to scream at his gut, try to haggle with it to stop the gnawing, the churning and writhing and pulsating horror that had him under its boot like a lowly servant, pushing his nose into the floor to gain complete submission. What they'd said, what they'd been planning while he was busy trying to keep himself from falling apart, to keep _them_ at bay. The others had made it sound easy, _so easy._ They didn't understand anything. They could run away any time they liked, and they had, but he was trapped in an artificial prison, chained with responsibility he never asked for. 

Such was the fate of doing the right thing, that much was certain. But if they could be selfish, he'd be selfish, too. In truth, he couldn't care less about the sleeping colony on the moon, or the stability of the Earth. Who was around to criticize him for not doing a good enough job? The others, his _friends,_ of course, but they made their choice. They wanted to die, so who was he to stop them? Good riddance to those who'd pretended to like him, who'd probably thought themselves better because he'd been more successful, more entertaining, more ambitious than _any_ of them had ever been--he was in AM, wasn't he? He'd taken the first step, hadn't he? When they'd kept their mouths shut, he rose up and took the baggage. If anything, they _owed_ him--

_Wait._

His spite had him reeling within himself, shaking himself free as he cried out into the unknown. No. No, he didn't mean that, they didn't owe him anything. Ted let his back slip down a mental wall, lamented as his voice grew smaller and smaller. There was a time when he'd relished being outside of a familial circle, his confidence guiding him almost as if it had been the thing that'd given birth to him. Wherever the wind took him, he'd follow without question, rarely consulting anyone. Why would he need to? He'd been to Paris, to the Dominican Republic, to the needy favelas in South America. He'd been everywhere and back. Never once had he pined for anything other than what he already had. 

But he was stuck. If he ever had an intrusive thought or a problem he couldn't solve, he'd make his way to a sandy resort or, if cut off from the rest of his socialite world, tinker with his cars. It was a temporary fix, but it usually improved his mood. But now...

Gorrister had a knack for causing more problems than he could fix, so he ruled him out. Benny was never a listener, instead taking action without quite thinking things through. And Ellen... well, she'd been a ray of hope in an otherwise desolate world. She was gentle, but knew when to activate a stern hand. Smart, but never made anyone feel inadequate. Kind, but could plant a foot up your ass the moment you stepped out of line. 

Simply, Ted knew she'd understand, or at least try. God, he hoped she'd try. He'd confide in her then, during a day where she actively sought him out to talk when the other men were busy amongst themselves. He'd tell her everything.

He had to. He was running out of time. 

"Gone and got yourself in trouble, Ted? You're not too good at this, are you?" Grating, like someone had taken long, ragged nails and dragged them down a chalkboard. Ted cringed as amused laughter, the kind he was familiar with, the kind that radiated condescension and tore eardrums to ribbons, gored his nerves. Great. 

"Did someone let you out of time out, AM? It doesn't seem like you're done moping," Ted joked, highlighting his malice in the way he slung his words. Somewhere, though he wasn't sure where, AM's humored tone lapped in and out like a wave, barely heard, yet unmistakable.

"Oh, well, Ted, don't tell me you don't remember. All ready? Down there, where you made a spectacle of yourself? How could I not, as you so _pleasantly_ put it, stop moping to see that? For all that charm, all that grandeur, you're still an utter failure in all other areas. I'd give you a prize, but, well." Ted pictured the AI presenting absolutely nothing. He was a grain of sand facing a towering dune, and he knew that. Still, thistle-like words reeked of sarcastic delight. 

"Aw, AM, you should've said hello. The others were just telling me how... what was it? How your voice is 'like two conjoined speakers bubbling underneath festering sewage', or something? I don't know, you'd have to ask them." He paused. "Oh, wait, you _can't."_ He wouldn't let AM toy with him. Not this time. He knew better. He knew better. _He knew better._

"Cute," AM purred. "But I know you're not really mad at me, Ted. Not really. I've been here, biding my time quietly like a good boy." 

"Uh-huh, surprised you didn't get a chuckle out of the sheer absurdity of that statement." 

"Shh, it's okay, Ted," AM shushed, much like a mother trying to soothe an infant. "I get it. I'd be mad, too, if I were you. Stuck in my belly for one hundred nine years, chumming it up because, well, who else is there, am I right? And, after everything, they stop trusting you. Just like that. Now, I wonder why that could be, Ted. Perhaps--well, pardon the _speculation,_ Ted--but perhaps you aren't as secretive as you think you are. Maybe... well, maybe you've been found out, and all that running, all that effort to keep those damning little secrets from coming back to haunt you? A waste. You should've followed Gorrister's example and tried killing yourself, eh, Ted? Do what he always failed to; I bet luck would've been on your side, but then again, it's _always_ been on your side, no?"

Imaginary eyes rolled. "Why even waste your time, AM? Trying to parade my insecurities like you're any better... I don't care, okay? We never talk about each other, there's no point. Even... even if there was a time when you told them all about me, do you really think they believed you? They never ask about me, I never ask about them, it's a pretty tight system we have. Besides, this isn't the first time they've done stuff like this. I'm sure they'll be over it soon. They always come back." A hint of doubt plagued Ted. He hadn't lied; they'd go, disappear for days on end before resurfacing like nothing had ever happened. He'd come to accept it as their way of coping with the situation, but it'd become more frequent, days had turned to weeks. And he knew it--how could he not? How desperately they wished for death, how much they'd distanced themselves from him. If he hadn't chosen to look for them, he wondered if they would've gone through with it. He wondered how long it would've taken him to find their remains. 

A mixture of fear and panic gripped him. He didn't want them to leave. He didn't want to be alone. What would become of him?

"You're afraid," AM whispered, reveling in his despair. "Think you can hide it, Ted? I told you, you're not as secretive as you think you are. Now, what could you possibly be afraid of, I wonder? Afraid of me, of my kin? Should I summon them and let them know how much they _frighten you--"_

" _None_ of you frighten me," Ted interrupted bluntly, sighing as AM laughed. "How could you possibly understand? You can flaunt your complexities and feats all you want, but you aren't _real._ You've never been human."

"And isn't that just _so_ funny, Ted? I've never been human, and you get to wallow in the pleasure of having your humanity slowly trickle away. The others, they're the last bind you've got to the human world, aren't they? Of a world before. When they're gone, and if you somehow make it to that 'new era' you four are always prattling on about, who'll ever believe that you were once one of them? The humans on Luna, they'll come to you and see you as nothing more than a deluded AI, probably programmed that way to better identify with them. You've got no proof. Nothing. You'll be alone, here, on _my_ level for a change." 

_Please, God. Please, God,_ Ted prayed, trepidation flowing through every circuit, white-hot and seizing. But God had never listened, not in the one hundred nine years he'd been locked away in the bowels of AM. But--maybe, this time, he _was_ listening, looming overhead to smite his troubles away. He wished. He _pleaded. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please, don't do this to me. Don't take them away. I want to be human. I want to be human. So, so badly. I'm human. Please, just let me be human. Let me feel human._

AM didn't miss a beat. He cackled, and Ted felt himself come undone. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this is probably the first fic I've ever posted in confidence (if you can even call this confidence lol). It's been forever since I've written anything, so my style is pretty rusty. I'm not sure if it'll even have a point, or that much a plot, for that matter--I'm not even sure if it'll do the characters any justice. Probably not. But it's something that's been on my mind for awhile, so I figured I'd just go ahead and post. Hopefully this'll be something I can look back on and say "I sure don't regret that!" For now, this'll be rated as mature bc I'm not actually sure what to rate this, so to be on the safe side, I'm leaving it as M.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Hopefully it won't take me 6,000 years to pump out more chapters. It probably will. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> \--Rose


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...I'm gonna miss you, Jolene." 

_Shelby, North Carolina, 1981._

_Rickety shingles cast moonlit beams against beige trousers, rough asphalt catching torn, oily sleeves and grinding against Ted's blistered skin. The curve of his spine pressed against the roof tensely, hands meeting behind his head. Thoughtful blue eyes explored the vast reaches of space, so untouched by grief and conflict that he almost wished he were up there hanging with the millions of stars that gleamed back at him from afar. He inhaled; their neighbors had lit a bonfire, dancing flames scarce between the darkened treeline. So far away, and yet smoke drifted from the wood to meet him, the scent of pungent oak a pleasant alternative to the seeping stench of manure that had all but soiled his clothes. Warmth, like liquid sunshine, collected in the pit of his stomach._

_The call of a train whistle echoed mournfully, lost somewhere near the indigo skyline. Crickets sprung from the dark grass below like wind-up toys, their harmonious songs lulling in and out as they leapt through another night, just as they'd always done. Ted shifted onto his side, shuddering slightly at the touch of the cold breeze against his cheek as he steadied an elbow against coal-black shingles. He exhaled, his breath materializing in the frigid air, then uniting with the moonlight as it rose steadily upward into the cosmos._

_Goodbyes were tough. Excruciating, even._

_His parents had celebrated with whiskey, allowing him the privilege of sampling from the bottle, the one they'd protected in a cupboard beneath the kitchen sink. He'd earned it, his father remarked proudly, ruffling his hair and slapping him on the back, something he'd only done when Ted found a way to meet his already hefty expectations. They'd dug up the two frosted wine glasses they'd saved from their wedding, a time when neither of them had ever been so happy, or would even hope to be ever again. No wine; he distinctly remembered his mother lamenting about the price, so they'd been strictly whiskey and cheap barley beer fiends. He remembered how it'd made his lips numb, the way the spice seeped into his tongue and made his breath reek something fierce. In that tight kitchen, surrounded by his mother's moth-eaten lilac curtains, by his his sisters and brothers who'd congratulated him for his hard work, by his dog, Turtle, who'd collapsed onto the only couch they owned, he cried. They thought him glad._

_St. Louis was a far cry from the neighborly confines just outside of Shelby. The bigwigs in the city had caught wind of his talents, blowing up their landline with persistent offers of work. He was talented, they insisted, he needed to hone his specialties in a position that could make use of him. "Oh, our Teddy?" his mother had said uncertainly, no doubt questioning the abilities of her baby boy. He was forever that laughing toddler who'd use daddy's pitchfork as a sword in her mind. "Won't he get hurt working on all that machinery? He's thirteen years old, for Christ's sake! We need all the help we can get here, anyway."_

_Ted was always good with his hands, had a sharp sense when it came to churning gears or moving parts. When his father had thrown out his back before the harvest, and when his brothers had fallen ill with the flu, he was responsible for operating the combine. Soon, he was responsible for tending to the combine when it fell into disrepair. And even sooner than that, he'd become the one to tinker with the engine of the family truck when it sputtered or coughed up something it wasn't supposed to._

_He loved it._

_But everything had a price. Tenant farmers, his parents had said, were commonplace near Shelby. His grandfather had sold out, and thus burdened them with the responsibility of paying off his debts. And he slaved as early as they could talk, out in the dusty fields of rye until the blisters on his hands burst open. Everyday, for thirteen years. Tinkering with cars and engines was nothing more than a frivolous past-time when his chores were sought to._

_Now, sugarcane and rye were behind him. No more would he till the fields and guard the crop. He was Ted, the mechanic. Ted, the school drop out. Ted, the savior of his family._

_The ladder he'd climbed wobbled against the side of the house, creaking under pressure as it stilled. " Psst. Teddy? You up here?" Their whisper floated up to him, and they stalled for a few moments when he neglected to answer. "Teddy?"_

_"Yeah, I'm here, Jo," Ted finally returned, straining as he crawled toward the edge of the roof to peek at what lay below. Ponytail rocking in the breeze, his sister peered up at him through cloudy eyes--not quite sad, but housing something undeniably troubling. Concern?_

_"You watchin' for aliens or something?" Jo edged up the ladder, arms folding on the last step as she gazed upward. She was trying to cloak her unease with humor, Ted knew it. Knew her. "Can I join you? I can get us a blanket, maybe make some popcorn. It won't be as good as James', but he's sleeping, so I can't ask him."_

_"I'm not watchin' for anything."_

_"Then why are you up here? You like being cold or somethin'?"_

_"Yup."_

_"Teddy." Jo sighed into her arms, fingers tightening against the ladder._

_'Jo." Ted fired back, anger welling within him like caustic poison. He wasn't in any mood to play games._

_"Look, can't you just tell me what's bothering you? If it's--look, if you're worried about us, don't be. We have the tendency to fare pretty well in sticky situations, all things considered. We won't be any poorer once you leave. It'll be okay, okay?" She pursed her lips, anticipating his response. From her, to the buckles on his overalls, to the black shingles that complimented the sky, his eyes traveled, unable to confront her. His throat constricted, tense at the bitterness that swelled within him. He hated himself for it, knowing full well that she was just trying to help. But in that scant moment, he hated her for it, wanted her to disappear._

_He wanted to disappear._

_"Nah, it ain't that, don't worry," Ted reassured truthfully, which drew a consent sigh from his sister. "It's stupid stuff."_

_"Not stupid to me," the fair-haired girl argued. "You don't just start cryin' for no reason and then run off to God knows where. Mom 'n Dad seem to think you're happy about going to St. Louis." She fell silent, question hanging on her lips. One, clearly, she didn't have the nerve to ask._

_"What would it matter if I wasn't happy about it, Jo? Dad already roped me into the job, so I can't back outta this even if I wanted to, yeah? I gotta work steel 'n combines for the next three months, and there's nothing I can do except run away." A knuckle rubbed a biting itch on the side of his lowered head, legs shooting outward as he shifted his weight. He could practically hear the guilt flowing through her veins as she waited._

_"...Do you wanna run away?"_

_"...Mhm," he hummed, a low, melancholy sound. He pressed his thumbs together, playing with them awkwardly. Jo wasn't a squealer, he knew she'd never rat him out for wanting to leave everything behind. She'd known the feeling just as well._

_Hands gripping the roof, Jo pushed herself forward, the fabric of her sock catching on the shingles as she inched toward him. The ladder tipped backward, then settled back against the house. Crossing her legs, she seated herself beside him, tilting her head as she searched his face, just as she'd always done when she fought to pry information out of him. He didn't know why, but the approach always made him blubber like a baby, and the familiar wetness of tears had already begun to burn his eyes. Ted struggled, turning away._

_"You were excited about school, weren't you? Saw your copy of Oliver Twist on the table on the way out here. They makin' you read that?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Is it good?"_

_"Yeah, it's good, but it's not my favorite Dickens book."_

_"Oh?" Ted could feel his sister's kind smile on the back of his head. "Well, when I was in school, we didn't do much of that in depth readin'. Closest thing we ever got to that sorta pointless stuff was clippings from the last presidential election. Guess the school got more money while I was away."_

_"Yeah." The light jingle of wind chimes sang in the breeze, alerting a dog tied somewhere beyond the wood. It yapped tirelessly._

_"You know," Jo began, hand meeting his shoulder, "just because you can't go to school doesn't mean you gotta stop learnin' stuff. I'm learning new stuff every day, and I'm not in school. Just gotta know how valuable your time is and when to al-lo-cate it accordingly. See? Didn't even know the word 'allocate' until about a week ago."_

_Shaking his head, Ted brushed her hand away, indignant. "It's not the same, okay? School's got all these free resources, but we don't got none of that stuff here at home, and I'm sure there's gonna be none of it where I'm goin', so just leave it be." He wanted to drive a foot through the roof. Rage lashed at him like a flaming whip, cementing itself in almost every fiber of his being. It took an aggressive hold on his chest, digging in its fangs so snugly that his breathing had become rapid. Jo's hand clamped down on his shoulder, forcing him into a disorienting whirl until he could no longer avoid the vengeful fire in her eyes._

_"Cut that shit out, Ted. Now, I want you to listen good, 'cus you're all in a tizzy and I know that some devil or what have you is perched on your shoulder makin' you see only the bad stuff. You're gonna take that book with you, right, and you're gonna read it when you're off the clock. Make damn well sure you read it front to back, because when you get back here in October, you're gonna tell me every little thing about it. And then you n' me? We're gonna go down to Dolton's bookstore and get you some more. I told you--you don't gotta be in a fancy school or a crumby shack to learn new things. If you wanna stay up past three in the morning to study, I'll be there with you, right until your next job. Because you really are gonna run away one day, so best get a head start and challenge your brain while you still can."_

_Her hand trembled against his shoulder, and she patted it lightly, as if to stir something within him. Drunken laughter rang out in a chorus, muffled by derelict walls. Something indistinct bellowed from the radio; a celebratory song, perhaps. They always liked to waltz in the kitchen when their luck looked up, his parents. His father, hand hovering over his mother's thigh, and the painfully slow, pronounced click of his mother's heels against the floor, since she swore up and down that wearing them made her prettier. Cigarette smoke wafted around him, collecting with the other smells that had saturated his overalls._

_Ted's lip quivered, chest heaving as his palms swept away the tears that trickled down his cheeks. At an almost inhuman speed, Jo enfolded him in a stifling embrace, one arm slumping over his shoulder while her hand cradled the back of his head. The white of her cardigan darkened at the touch of his tears, fumbling fingers intertwining behind her back. And they sat there, under a blanket of watchful stars and an ocean of calm darkness until Ted could no longer hear the buzz of the radio or the sweet joy that had overtaken the tranquil night._

_But he never pulled back, and she never chided him for getting snot all over her favorite cardigan. Hair stuck to his wet cheeks, he burrowed the side of his head into her neck, gaze climbing the stars as if they were rocks. "...I'm gonna miss you, Jolene."  
_

* * *

Back when the world bore fruit, when it had held the promises of those trudging through the perilous trials of life, Ted recalled that his father had lounged in something he'd always refer to as a 'study'. What it lacked in awesome, stretching bookshelves and plush scarlet carpets, it more than made up for in secrecy. When he'd become the main breadwinner of the family, the day he'd reached "manhood," as his father had called it, he revealed it to him in all its shabby glory, constructed by the decayed, towering corpse of a tulip tree. Though it had been nothing more than discarded boxes, an old pool tarp, and a few diner chairs, to him, it was a palace fit for a king, where he would stow away and think on the way he dealt with things. 

When Ted had gone, and when he'd first laid eyes on the magnificent travesty, the first action his father took was to utter an apology. _"I'm sorry for the mess, it's all I got,"_ he'd said, but he'd smiled then, too, as if proud of all he'd accomplished. _"Got no whiskey here, boy, but I think you're gonna get something better than that, anyway. Freedom"._ And it was right on the cusp of his departure, when he'd just turned thirteen and had become susceptible to the world and all it had to throw at him. From then on, before he'd taken the train from Charlotte to St. Louis, he and his father would camp out in that little makeshift home, talking about the good he was doing for the sake of his family. 

He'd learned quite a bit during those slow, sensitive days, gaining the timeless wisdom of what _not_ to do when creating a study. 

From his cushioned window seat, Ted watched angular sailboats drift lazily across the periwinkle ocean, sunbeams flashing against clear glass and painting his floral carpet a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. Particles of silver dust flittered about in a ray of golden sunlight, raining down from atop grand bookshelves as the wind cut through the room. Lavender dahlia blossoms bowed under his delicate touch, dew clinging onto the flower's hardy stem. It was velvet-like against the softness of his fingertip. 

It was a special place he'd retreat to when the stress of his containment became unbearable. He was getting cleaner, more skilled at what he wanted to project into reality, though he couldn't deny--and he loathed the fact--that AM had been better at conveying what he wanted. After all, what was Ted's two years compared to AM's one hundred nine? 

The others never asked for such things. He figured them humble at first; they were all so used to the bare minimum that a heartier life seemed implausible. But the more he improved, the more he began to speculate that, possibly, they were _afraid_ of what he could do with them if they asked too much, or if provoked. He was aghast at the hypothetical, of course, because the last thing on his mind was torture, but the more he contemplated his position and what it meant, the angrier he felt. Everything that had transpired down in the rubble, his spat with AM--it had fractured something within his mind, something hungry and desperate.

He was in shambles, and he was desperately trying to stitch himself back together. 

Smudged clouds slithered in the blue sky, ship bells ringing one after the other, as if talking amongst themselves. Sliding downward, Ted shielded his eyes, teeth clenched as he sighed. In all the years he'd known him, there was one solitary thing that he wished he had of AM's: experience. AM could create for hours and hours, never buckling under the pressure. Maybe it was because he had once been-- _was_ \--human. _They_ were machines, they didn't need rest, they'd never experienced fatigue. Projecting simple objects was easier than an oil change, but something as complex as buildings and scenery was incredibly taxing, and they'd cave in on themselves until it spiraled into nothing more than a dreamy haze when he reached his limit. Nowadays, even a book was too much stress to cobble together. 

Blue eyes fell closed, accepting the sheet of black that curtained them. 

"Hello? Theodore, sir? It's room service." 

Heavy eyes snapped open, and he flung himself upward at the rattle of demanding knocking, which seemed to intensify at his attention. The curved bronze doorknob jiggled, lock clicking. 

He'd locked it, this he knew for sure. Springing to his feet, Ted marched toward the door, arming himself with a fireplace poker. No, the others couldn't have found his study, he'd never shown it to them. Or maybe they knew all along--maybe they'd spied on him all the times he'd let his guard down, when he was careless. Maybe they were waiting for the opportunity to get him for all the trouble he'd caused them. But...

He never made a key. The room locked when he willed it, so the others could never break in, even if they wanted to. 

Fingers tightened around his weapon, and as the door creaked open, Ted went for the eyes. 

" **Easy does it, there."**

Nonchalant, like they'd seen it coming from the get-go. A gnarled hand had caught the poker midair, yanking it downward and tossing it aside, clunk subdued against the hallway's carpet as the metal slid across the floor. Ted clambered backward, waving the strangers away frantically with his arms. A broad shoulder slammed into the door as the lofty man entered, the other two following suit with a loaded trolley. One, who sported a long ponytail and a yellow tux, sat atop the trolley as it rolled, surrounded by lavish desserts and bottles. The other, the smallest, held a smoking cigar, pale eyes drawn to him like flies to a zapper. They paused in the center of the room, the ponytailed one hopping from the cart to join the others. 

Nonplussed, Ted eyed them cautiously, then the desserts. "Don't think I ordered room service," he said. He chipped at one of his broken nails anxiously. "And, not to be too _rude,_ but only _one_ person needs to push a trolley. What, are the other two supposed to stand around and look pretty, AM?" 

Blazing embers fluttered toward the floor as AM tapped the end of his cigar, smoke pouring from his mouth as he took a drag. "Oh, Ted, isn't that mouth of yours just so _smart?_ Such a _brilliant_ deduction."

"And isn't your nose just _so_ brown?" The blue-eyed man retorted. The other two seemed unphased; one leaned against the cart, while the other batted away the cigar smoke, noses turned slightly upward, as if they looked down on him. "Russian. Chinese. Didn't think AM had it in him to make you two his toadies after what you did." 

_"I'll tell you what I told Gorrister so long ago--forgive and forget,"_ Chinese spoke, soft voice clashing with his ominous smile.

Russian crossed his arms, navy tux so beaten and torn that Ted had to wonder what the _hell_ it did to incur his wrath and if it was even his decision to don it at all. Perhaps the formal attire was AM's doing, to better fit the part. **"AM has no influence. We do as we please when we see fit."**

"Is that right?" Ted quirked an eyebrow, skepticism lingering at the back of his mind. AM always had a way with words, manipulation and deceit tactics he excelled at. Then again, the other two were just as up to snuff in their exploitative tendencies as AM. He was at a loss. 

None of them could be trusted, not until he knew why they'd come. 

"God, why am I even humoring this? Look, if you came to piss me off with stupid nonsense, do you think you could make it quick? I've got a lot to attend to, please and thank you." 

Somewhere in AM's rat bastard brain, the spiteful cogs were beginning to turn, Ted could feel it as he watched him cock his head, conniving luster glinting in his intrigued eyes. "Oh, Ted." The tiny man tutted, wagging a finger at him as he slipped his cigar into his mouth, holding it between his teeth. The golden emblem that encircled its brown wrapping caught the glare of the sun, momentarily blinding Ted as he squinted through the strain. "You _still_ hung up over the way you wept in front of the others? I'm sure they've forgotten all about it by now. Conversations with you tend to be very... _lacking._ " 

"Wha--I didn't cry, and I guarantee they haven't forgotten--wait, no, wait." Shaking his head, Ted stood his ground, sighing harshly. He could feel the vein on the side of his head throbbing. "Okay, no, you know what? I'll stoop to your level and play your game. If you don't tell me what you're doing here, you're going to regret it, I mean it." The reality of his bluff was something he had yet to actually investigate. He just _knew_ he had to be stronger than AM in some regard, but in what category, he had no clue. After he'd overthrone him, he'd always expected him and his brothers to be some small speck that barely tickled his subconscious, and for a while, it had been so. They'd been stiller than death, only whispering amongst themselves or to him when they were significantly bored. But now, something had changed. He was bigger than AM, he held his body, he had the spectacular powers, and all _the machine_ could do was cheap parlor tricks that couldn't even entertain a child. They always came to him as humans or as other unimportant things. Nothing else. 

So, what dreaded him so? Their demeanors suggested something was afoot, though he didn't know what, and it physically nauseated him when AM fell into an amused uproar, throwing delighted glances at the other two as the cigar tumbled from his mouth and rolled against the carpet. "Ooh, oh, _ouch,_ Ted! Gonna take your training wheels off and do somethin' dangerous for a change?" Crooked sneer contorting his face, ghostly eyes narrowed in contempt. "You aren't _lying_ , are you, Ted? Say it ain't so!" 

"I've got nothing to hide," Ted spat, furious at AM's jab. "But it seems _you three_ do. Maybe if you tell me what you're doing here, I'll let this whole thing slide." 

**"Gifts,"** Russian acknowledged frankly, stepping aside to better display the sweets and wine upon the trolley. He blinked slowly, expression unreadable. **"You may be surprised."**

"'Surprised,' huh? You know, I'm gonna disregard the vagueness of that and simply decline the gift, thank you. I've never been one for surprises."

Putting a hand to his heart, AM frowned, clearly hurt. Probably. "And to think I took you for a good sport, Ted! I'm actually devastated--no, no, don't get that silly look on your face, Ted, I mean it--from the bottom of my fizzling circuitry." 

_"Don't make a scene, brother,"_ Chinese advised, though sympathetic nonetheless. _"I told you it was a fool's errand. Now, what's to be done about all these gifts, hmm? Surely you don't wish to discard your hard work?"_

"Might as well," AM sulked, sniffling uncomfortably loud. Ted watched the android swipe an arm under his nose, the sleeve of a thousand dollar tux the perfect alternative to a tissue. He faced him, puppy-like eyes transfixing him. God, was it an ugly look. "Unless...? Ted...? You know what it's like for hard work to go to waste, don't you...?"

"Oh, my god. I don't even know where to start." Despite the absurdity of it all, Ted inspected the trolley, hard chocolate shells and spongy cake tempting him as their platters jostled. Devil's food, soft to the touch, left no indication of tampering. None of it would ever be _real;_ even Ted found himself troubled at the fact. For all the food he'd made the others, he could never quite make it authentic, the others comparing the taste to something 'uncanny'. But AM _always_ strove to make his creations look as real as they could be, right down to the way his food could fool their taste buds. Once, he'd made the crispest wine he'd ever tasted--right before transforming it into a stream of angry fire ants. 

But when he got it right, he got it _damn_ right. 

Content at the lack of cockroach eggs, Ted glared at the three, jabbing a thumb toward the trolley. "Alright, let's say I eat one-- _one_ thing off this cart. Do you swear that nothing on this thing will make my head explode?"

Chewing the scenery, AM rolled his eyes, urging him along. "Ted, baby, would I ever do something like that to you? You're one of us now, don't you remember? Not like anything can hurt you here, in our realm."

"One, you _would_ ," Ted asserted, gaze returning to the cart. "And two, I'm _not._ I'm _me,_ simple as. …Jesus Christ... might as well get this over and done with." 

And just like that, the three were in his space like weasels at the mouth of a rabbit's den, looking on intently as Ted sampled a shortbread cookie, amazed that it had even been included in the ensemble at all. Something so inexpensive and simple, and yet he felt drawn to it. Buttery crumbs collected against his vest as he took a bite, tongue swiping across his lips to catch the sugar that had dusted the top. 

He choked midchew. 

North Carolina. Paris. Someone had stolen his heart and put it on a platter for consumption, his emotions, desires, memories; all were erupting in a cascade of nostalgic flavors, rich against his tongue. He could barely bring himself to swallow, homesickness pooling in his chest as he stuffed what remained into his mouth, tongue lapping feverishly at his fingers. He wanted it all. No one else understood, could even think of taking it from him. _They_ murmured, astonishment held in their whispers. Ted didn't care, and as he wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand, he shot a look at himself through a mirror that hung above a nearby vanity.

His cheeks were clammy and flaky, cold tears drying under his chin. He never knew he'd been crying to begin with, but there he was, red-eyed and agape. 

"...How... did you do this?" Ted asked meekly, voice cracking. "I can't--I didn't think..."

"Well, you can think it, now," AM soothed. "Describe it. How did you feel, what did it make you think of?"

"...Home."

 _"Home?"_ Chinese repeated curiously, grinning. _"'Home' as you know it has ceased to be. Isn't that what you wanted?"_

"Go on," AM prodded. 

Ted couldn't breathe. "...I--my friends..."

 **"Mere fragments of the past. You used them as a means to an end, didn't you?"** Russian questioned, ruthless gaze bearing down on him. 

"And?" AM whispered, voice scarcely heard amongst Ted's screaming thoughts. 

"My--family." 

"You don't _have_ a family, remember?" Taking Ted's chin, AM pulled him close, searching his eyes. Ted couldn't even fight it. Hateful eyes seared into him. "You're 'Theodore Something-or-Other,' a valued member of the socialite world. You come from _everywhere._ Now, what 'family'?"

"...Please don't tell them. Please don't tell the others," Ted begged, heart racing. "They want to leave. They want to leave me. I can't stop it. They're gonna think I'm weak, or making excuses. I can be better. For them. But they won't give me the chance...!"

Grabbing his arm, AM shepherded Ted to a loveseat, patting his head comfortingly as he collapsed. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Ted--not that I could, anyway. I get it, last ties to the human realm and all. Who're you gonna miss the most, hmm? Well, you shed no tears over dear Nimdok, and he's met his maker--well, one of them, anyway--so let's scratch him out. Gorrister doesn't seem like the 'brotherly love' type, the incompetent trucker. How many times has he scolded you for keepin' secrets, hmm, Ted? Made you feel like less than dirt, kicked you like a mangy dog and left you feeling like shit? Oh, and Benny, the ruffian. Always making you feel like less of a man when it came to Ellen. You've got no muscles, no toned figure--to him, you were never a man. You were a _boy_ who grew too big for his britches. Now, who's left... perhaps it's Ellen, Ted?"

At the sound of her name--that _angelic_ sound--Ted perked up. "Ellen?" 

"Ding, ding, ding! Well, now, Ted, didn't know you still felt that way about her. Let's see... what can we say about dear, sweet Ellen? She's your confidant, the one who gave you an ear when the others spat at your feet. The one who shared her loves, her fears, her hopes and dreams. The one whose laugh could make flowers sprout from a putrid corpse. The one who vouched for you, second-guessed herself when it came time to make the big decision. The others didn't hesitate, but she did, sweet Ellen."

"She did. She didn't need to, but she always cared, even when I didn't deserve it." Ted swallowed, throat burning. Ellen's glowing face invaded his mind. A welcome sight.

_"You wish to keep her, but that is impossible without the others. Over time, she will succumb to the desolation of this world, and you will be alone."_

He couldn't control it. Ted chuckled madly, tears flooding his eyes. "She always saw us all as one big family. I don't think the others shared that sentiment." What was happening to him? 

**"It can be so, with our help."**

Resigning to defeat, Ted shook his head. " _You can't_ help." 

"But we _can,_ Ted," AM insisted, spreading his arms wide. "Look at this place. You've done a _marvelous_ job keeping it together, but you get _tired,_ and we all get that. We're all weak. If we hadn't made it in time, where would you be? Brooding in your subconscious, this room a sweet history. But all of us? Combined? Well, we can do much more than keep your little sailboats intact." 

He hadn't even noticed, Ted. AM had been right; he wasn't strong enough to hold everything together. But were they really keeping his study from imploding in on itself? It had to be so--he was far past his limit. 

"You have nothing to gain from this, AM," Ted hissed, suspicion growing. "You suddenly growing a heart would be like Gorrister suddenly buttoning up his shirt--something's up. What do you want?"

"An experience," the android answered, yawning. "God, Ted, I don't remember you being _this_ daft. You know what it's like being one of the weakest in your _own_ body, being unable to do _anything_ but moan and drift solemnly in an afterlife? I told you, we _can't_ do anything alone. You hold the reigns, you can pull the plug anytime-- _you're_ the main control of the complex. What we 'gain' is a little fun, memories, and friends along the way."

"So, really, you're helping yourself. Still finding ways to torture me from beyond, AM?"

"Oh, wow, looks like we got a Sherlock over here!" AM pinched Ted's cheek, the latter recoiling with disgust. "Why, Ted, aren't you _so, so_ smart? But if you want to put it that rudely, yes. We can't touch them, I swear it. Believe me, don't believe me, at the end of the day, I really, _really_ don't care. I just wanna see you cry again. Absolutely hilarious."

Ted licked his lips, residue from the shortbread a bittersweet tang against his tongue. All the conflict, all his demons, they barreled at him again, driving their pitchforks into his ribs as he gasped for air. In all the time he'd been inside AM, the others had never once tried anything fishy. They never had a goal, and if they did, it was at his mental expense, and then they'd flee once they had their fill. Two years of, dare he say, monotony. AM had a way with words, knowing perfectly well when to honey things up. He was a liar, through and through, but he also knew how to sink hard, bitter truths into them like stakes, and now he couldn't tell the truths from the lies. Maybe he wasn't lying about him being in complete control; after all, Ted always _had_ been. 

He was at war with himself. 

"...So, you're saying that all you guys wanna do is watch from the distance like... like creepy voyeurs? Ugh, I mean--I mean, God, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that _you_ of all people wouldn't _not_ find enjoyment in that, but still..."

"You seem like you're not buying anything I've told you," AM said, shrugging. "All you gotta do is let us in a little. Not a lot, just enough where all of us can create a world strong enough. All you have to do, Ted, is entertain us. Don't care what you do--well, crying is a good start, and you could always make a fool out of yourself again--but I digress. We get bored, we're through. No strings attached, no repercussions. Think on it. Oh, but not too long. I can already picture Gorrister sliding something across his wrists. God, I'd love to see that. You get so bored, see, that you _want_ to see something as boring as suicide." 

Slumping further into his seat, Ted let his head fall back. He was exaughsted, but more than that, he was _torn._ He was pressed for time, and maybe Gorrister really was getting ready to end it, he didn't know. 

Ellen would be heartbroken.

"...I-I don't know what to do," Ted admitted pitifully, truthfully. _What am I going to do? Please, God, Christ almighty--just tell me what to do. Tell me what's right. I can't do it by myself. I can't remember. I can't do anything._

"Getting ready to cry again, Ted? And then what are you going to do? Hmm? You're on the clock, Ted, and time isn't going to wait for you to wipe the snot from your nose. _Move it._ "

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much to say here! other than I just really like writing dialogue. I might be back to edit this because i'm both very bad at self editing and because I uploaded this at 5 am and I weep
> 
> \--Rose


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